Utterly Empty

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Abstract

the particles of me that rise as dust to touch your eyes Because I am gone Less than forgotten</p><p id="aacc">Utterly empty with nothing left to push through I acquiesce to the void and accept the darkness There was no voyage because I was never here</p><p id="3ed7">This poem was inspired by the poem, <i>Tulips</i> by Sylvia Plath, in <i>Ariel: The Restored Edition</i>. I find myself reading poetry and fiction and highlighting words or passages that move me. I don’t read the poem or page again before I write my poem, I just allow the nerve to be touched. And then I spill my words.</p><p id="9c53">A snippet from <i>Tulips</i>, where I got my inspiration:</p><blockquote id="f2b2"><p>I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted To lie with my hands turned

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up and be <b>utterly empty</b> How free it is, you have no idea how free —</p></blockquote><p id="133d">© <a href="undefined">Jonathan Greene</a> 2020</p><p id="1b9e">If you liked this, you might like this as well:</p><div id="1b82" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/i-hate-myself-some-days-bec2bad805c0"> <div> <div> <h2>I Hate Myself (Some Days)</h2> <div><h3>A Poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*ekRNylUIE0z9HDIQ)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A Poem

I feel nothing No tingle of life No emotion Nothing to make me feel human A sallow pit inside my body corroding me by the second

Vacancy of soul Invisible nature I pass without notice because I am not there I am a memory of what I was even though I am still here

Transparent See right through me and ignore the particles of me that rise as dust to touch your eyes Because I am gone Less than forgotten

Utterly empty with nothing left to push through I acquiesce to the void and accept the darkness There was no voyage because I was never here

This poem was inspired by the poem, Tulips by Sylvia Plath, in Ariel: The Restored Edition. I find myself reading poetry and fiction and highlighting words or passages that move me. I don’t read the poem or page again before I write my poem, I just allow the nerve to be touched. And then I spill my words.

A snippet from Tulips, where I got my inspiration:

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty How free it is, you have no idea how free —

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